


Home is Your Scent

by Fireflycuddles



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: ABO, All age means is experience here, Don't know how many chapters, Hakyeon is a sweetheart don't confuse things, Hongbin has a kid, M/M, Mpreg, hongbin is a pole dancer, hongbin was a whore, just another love story, not immortal though, warewolves can be over 100 and still look young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 08:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireflycuddles/pseuds/Fireflycuddles
Summary: An abo story where :ALPHAS   - All impregnate - females have a hard time conceiving-[Alphaxalpha] mostly through vitro fertilization.- yes femalexfemale is possible only vitroBETAS     - males - impregnate- females - conceive- but the beta scent is very light/hard to catch/easy to hide/hard to find a mate.OMEGAS - all conceive- none impregnate- males have a very small fetus- small cubs- less body weight, need surgery or die-makes them rare and wanted,for others treasured.Mating rituals  - Bite marks Naturally on Alphas fade instantly, Betas- take 1 at most 2 days, Omegas- at most 10 daysOmegas           - self lubricateAlphas             - have knots for better pregnancy.I feel like this fandom doesn't really like abo fics where there's mpreg, and I'm very sorry, but the story line didn't fit other idol groups I like..... A friend [Jung Taekwoon] that has confused affection for my son for something out of his control.





	Home is Your Scent

Character: Lee Hongbin age 32, omega werewolf, club host and stripper/pole dancer, once a prostitute.

Quote of the past:  
‘High on the effortless scent of the one holding you - one butterfly kiss and u break free the wolf inside him - you make him want it, you make him crave it, you simply do what you do, you adjust him. He goes defenseless, tolerant, relaxed, sluggish, shaky, hasty but for the meantime powerless, and often offhand passionate. It all soon becomes too automatic how I react - how I hold him, how he tracks my hands, how my skin burns for the sickening moist of his drool- dripping, trailing all of me.’

Eternal in my paradise I should have lived. I was once the most sought omega in the Downtown of the City. I gripped pearls like candy, slid them in my sticky scent and drowned in gain, because there was never any shame. I was born an orphan, left to comprehend that my value was what fed me and made me greed. Desperately, at the age of 15 I gave my name, my signature, my every cell and my very destiny, to The House of O. Only death could take my soul away. I figured then, there would never be a protest so strong - crawling in my skin like hives, ringing in my windpipe, slapping me in the face, breaking my nails for change, raping my insides, and bleeding loud.

He cried - arrived loud and clear, as if breathing my scent was all he anticipated, required, and settled him down. He threw me off, he shook me up, and made me scream - I begged and cried, I rolled and leaped, I gripped my ears. Excessive fear oozed from my every pore. I remember my tears where cascades that showered my body. My bruises where my very own monster. It slipped once or twice - my strength, but then I bled for him. The deepening of my scent on him, the more rooted the realization became - he was my own to keep, my only possession, my right to claim mine, and mine he is.

‘You’re accounted for your mistakes, but when someone else takes even half the responsibility, you pay your debts just the same.’

I’m on my way to The House of O, it’s 6 am and no one is at the door. Mornings are the best, it’s when the streets carry in volumes the pitch of the birds around. The dead are dead, the wasted in the tranquil ground, and the whores in feather beds away. It’s the only time the sun can devour the downtown and place some serenity to the walking dead. To those used as merchandise of guilty pleasure for the privileged.

I step onto the white ceramic floor tile, pass the hall of glass. I nearly trip remembering the needles of my past; the heels on my shoes echo as the chills take a run of their own. My heat leaves, my chemistry tumbles, I go numb, I feel no more, the cold consumes me, and my eyes I close. If I could bandage them I would, but my very pain has turned invisible. My blood pumps faster as I see the bodies behind my eyelids. The hate is not only curious, it wants me behind the glass again. To stand and strip, and navigate nowhere until blown to the one that has the desire to feed me the beads of pearls again. I turn to the right, I hide my eyes again, tempted to just run, but my suffering is just as much. I walk poised because I don’t stand behind that glass anymore. I don’t whisper my name around, but my name is caught on tongues; it is those behind glass that hate my guts. I reach the counter of my destination where only the registration takes place and I sign in. The computer recognizes me and prints my job of the day. I take the paper and scrunch it in my hand; it’s truly an ignorant waste. The rules are followed and the presenting oneself before entering any section of the building is mandatory, or punishment is ensued. The print is not only my ticket but my given receipt for tactile proof in case ever as an employee I am judged wrong and taken into some misunderstanding - they make me believe. Yet the rules are followed, everyone wants to climb the stairs of preference. I walk straight to the 8th door for the tunnel only directed to the back room for hosts and hostesses. Be the lights working or not, the eyes of a werewolf can see it all. My golden eyes glow and with memory I proceed. Having walked through all 9 doors, if ever requested I stick to my value, a price higher than ever, caused by difficult conditions.

Doors:  
1 Platinum (performance and prostitute of choice to take but return.)  
2 Regular (performance)  
3 Basic (blow jobs)  
4 Backstage  
5 Stripper club  
6 Porn club (orgies)  
7 Restaurant /Bar  
8 Hosts/Hostess  
9 Janitors  
10 Locked

I catch my friend Bomi in the dressing room for hosts, twisting her red curls, preparing for enchanting a promising customer with her pompous poison ivy cosplay - with the lacking cotton on the tiny green crinoline that’s showcasing the string between her cheeks. Legs with artificial tattoos of running leaves down her legs, ending at the top of the 6inch stilettos. Quite the art of the day, a given she will handle a lot more customers today.

“Hey Baby,” she winks and returns to her glitter. “Jisoo told me you received 3 requests last night.” She prolongs, finger cleaning the smears of her lipstick. “Are the memories that far gone? Aren’t cubs expensive?” Her simple usual laugh reminds me she’s only being her regular nosy self. Bomi loves to pretend the beginning of our career never happened; to the new ones that come for work, she calls them rats. New beauty in different shapes and sizes come in every 2 months. They treat them like cargo. Bomi sees them as competition, but she is aware of the real hell they are living. Having lived it before, Bomi and I became friends, a friend to help me calculate my earnings, but never did I interest her in joining my wolf pack.

I sit on a stool and look in the mirror. “It’s a miracle I am still here.” I scowl at myself, because my scars must be ghosts.

“Baby you’re pretty still, and money won’t ever lose its value, get yourself together quick.” Her squeaky voice threatens a bone or two, but she flies a kiss my way, and my lip lines rise for the day.

 

Except I do poorly for the day, but that’s how my morning shifts are expected to go when I make no promises. It’s tiresome, what one touch was before taken as thrill now erupts an emotion that I must push down. I push it down, and I push it deep, because there should be no room for guilt, but hours later that emotion must be released. It’s tiresome to count the hours, it’s tiresome to not confuse them, to have a schedule so fixed. I end my shift at 2pm, no oddity in the number of customers that attended, but 7 years ago the daylight for me would only be seen through a window in a room where naked me was only one me. I now walk two and at 2pm I walk out of The House of O, with responsibilities built from my greed.

I removed my make up an hour ago, there wasn’t any customers needing me an hour behind the end of my shift. It’s a slow Thursday, but the nights are never abandoned, no matter the day or weather, The House of O always has customers passed the hours of dinner.

I change quickly from my suit with suspenders in the large room that is covered with walls of mirrors made for us hosts, back to my grey Henley and ripped jeans. Shoes are never left behind, at least not when their price is higher than your pay. I walk out the backdoor and wait for my ride. The sun is clouded, it makes the day appear gray, and likewise to my mood, the smells of the downtown like always are filthy and dangerous.

Ten minutes later the Chevy Silverado, blue, scratched, and rusty loud truck appears. I open the door to the passenger seat and hop in, avoid the look and reach for a touch at the back seat. His little fingers reach for my hand, they want to tangle in my own, but quickly I turn around. “Tough day?” He asks but I ignore his routine. I lock my eyes close and divert my attention to the rumbling of the engine, he drives, but the hand on my knee requesting attention remains for just a while longer than the usual.

The ride should be short, our home isn’t too far away. My driver is an alpha of our pack, Jung Taekwoon, still a bit of a stranger in the heart, but a friend that has confused affection for my son for something out of his control.

Jung Taekwoon - age 59, Alpha, hunter

Quote of the past:  
‘Could be the voluptuous body, could be the long silky hair, could be how interested they are in the remains of a werewolf who destroyed his family. Could be the way they walk, the way the hips swivel from side to side. The way they lead with their breasts. Could be the way they’re actively attracted to my scent. Could be their heavy crave for an alpha. Could be... sometimes I rather have that. Other times I only get aroused by the scent of what I could never accept again. The scent of promise, the scent of care, the scent of pack. But an alpha like me, should never join a pack again.’

Seven years ago, I betrayed my feelings, I found myself joining a pack. It had been years since my family and I, but the memory lives in me, and forever will. Passed mistakes cannot be erased, but future relapses can be prevented. I thought I had it all figured out. At the time of my loss I judged my actions, my vain and my foolish behavior, and indisputably I owned it to myself and my family to torture myself. Years I spend in my dark solitary retribution. I moved downtown and wasted myself and most savings my family had left me. My every cent, every shine of gold, almost went to The House of O.

[ https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/b1/2b/8a/b12b8a9490d617bf6777a749825966d2--ballet-costumes-dance-costumes.jpg ]

There is where I got entangled in the sharp shine of his eyes. In the thinner bones of a golden omega beauty. The smell was effortless to the nostrils, the sight glorious and enticing; a living golden sculpture when his muscles tensed. He lured with gestures of enchanted spells. On his tiptoes he danced, on his fixation he twirled, and when he crazed the eyes, he attacked with bare nudity on the floor. Chest so well maintained, thick clavicles exposed with golden veins running from the neck. All hairs removed only to witness the grandeur of his breasts, the enthralling pectorals begging for attention as they swelled from the scent of alpha. His breath rasping in his heaving chest, sexually caving his stomach in when he laid on the floor. The abdominal muscles stretching as his narrow waist connected to protruding pelvic bones, became smaller. A leg so innocently covering and controlling the eyes fixed on his golden body.  
Minimal expectations I had of The House of O, and in denial I stepped in, but bolts of wanted intimacy became clear on the very first day that I met his smile - so proud and dignified.

As a hunter often, I encourage my hormones to lead directly to the hunters I work with. Only alphas are allowed hunting jobs in the downtown, and only alphas I took to bed. For years the belief was the number of omegas had been dying down from their own given biology. For years after my last contact with a spiteful omega, I never again wished to muse over one. For months I was given information from hunters of the location of The House of O when I began to repel the other alphas with obtuse sex. They versed in multiples how only the most beautiful omegas worked there, and belonged there to appease wealthy alphas.

A hunter with so much gold wasn’t rare, but with instinct the higher portion migrated unlike myself. Contrary to the belief, the job is far from simple. Alphas are created to sustain, to provide, to pacify, to breed, to guarantee security, to hunt. Yet Hunting is not something any alpha can do. It’s a life on the line. It’s a threat to your pack, a perilous fight, a stealthy action, a death for a life, a delicate breath, a heavy armor, a speedy defense, a courageous attack, a brave chest. It’s more than just a kill and carry, it’s an adventure every day. Unlike the other jobs, I get paid by the amount and not the hours, and thus so much of my time is still spent in The House of O. An alpha hunter, at times I find attractive, but how I witness it all - how I recognize our callous hands, our callous behavior, and our inevitable strength - I crave a soft touch, maybe just a glimpse.

‘Comfort is a luxury.’

While my right-hand rests on the wheel, my thoughts return to the murder of last night. A prostitute was tortured by some savage at the downtown hotel, The Castle. It’s not out of the norm for prostitutes to get killed, but for werewolf packs it carries fright. While I would give my life to protect the cub in the back seat, I know that Hongbin in the passenger seat, carries a curse that I can’t follow. I keep my sight beyond the windshield, keeping suspicion in a pool of wonder. The radio is broken, but Hongbin’s ghosts are loud inside me. The pressure kicks in slowly, mile after mile, as I press my fingers on the steering wheel. The truck smells of dirt, it’s what I use for work. It’s not my lack of speed, but the care for the cub that spurs me to drive this old vehicle - bought from the death of walking food. There’s this energy that slowly crawls over me, it’s what I must learn to control. Before I could manage a look, I proceed to the brake handle, and the door is slammed before the other opens. I take my sweet time thinking unlike him, in the driveway, in the gray day.

The building is ancient, just like the rest, but there’s a scent of peace inside the doors. Before the pack I lived much worse. Just like my broken soul, my sorrow rested in a motel room so ugly, the bats at night would whine. My home now is much greater, taller and stronger. The walls could slow a loud noise and prevent the smell of blood for a couple hours after it’s beginning. No buildings around have color, and maybe that was a culture change from where I was born, but then again nothing from then is the same. I walk up the dark staircase, it’s quite a distance for a house containing only two floors. The spiderwebs outside could scare a cub from the up city, but the inside would welcome the upper class. No speck of dust on the floor, no scent of trash unlike the streets. Everyone receives a job and accepts it with grave responsibility.

I reach the upstairs only to find no voice of complain or a family of games. It’s the usual to be upstairs when it’s the beginning of the week, but it’s a Thursday. A Thursday of no sun anymore, of clouds keeping up with their own job of covering the downtown of the city.

“Taeki?” The angelic voice chimes. I turn to look at the boy. He’s hiding behind the door of his room. My red eyes scan his shy ones for three seconds before the door opens wide and he runs in my direction. A swift little jump on his part and then he’s on my chest. His back feels feathery soft like his pajamas do, and he smells of Hongbin’s Romero shampoo. There’s also that scent of sweetness that I love and survive on, in him. It’s rooted from his birth, and so profound I could take a bite. He nuzzles on my neck, and with trust I convey the action with delicate touches, to pass a tinge of my own scent to him. His little hands have been carved in my skin since the day he was born. With strength his small little fingers press on my shoulders as he whispers in my ear. “He said to lock the door.”

I pet his hair and direct us to his room. “Then locking the door you should have done.” I slowly lower him down onto his wooden toddler bed. His swollen wide open innocent doe eyes are locked into mine. Sometimes it looks as if his baby eyes will never leave him, just like that soft skin attached to him feels like it’s never scraping off. My palm holds his baby cheek, and I could kiss him every second. I resist and kiss his forehead. “I’m going to go downstairs and find out why today is so special.”

“Bambi said I can’t go downstairs, but I want to go.” He whines, but I shake my head.  
“No no no Jihu, sweetie you stay, and I bring Bambi back upstairs.” I kiss his forehead again before I part myself. He watches me leave with no complains, and I lock the door before I leave the room.

While descending the stairs I focus on my sense of smell, and recognize that of werewolf booze as the sweet yet bitter taste of wolfsbane weed begins to linger on my tongue. Thursday and Fridays were pack days, Mondays and Tuesdays were self-days, Wednesdays were random, and the weekends were dedicated for nights of rendezvous. Of course, it’d been awhile since the last Thursday night was spent wasted. The probability of a cub getting attacked was so high, the pack was not willing to stake the risk. This year the cub is five.

 

 

Red eyes lighted up, canines bolted out, but with maximum resistance he kept his full nature in place. Taekwoon was accustomed to this life, didn’t take him much to become one like the rest. The pack fed him what was out of his reach; always did their best to make him feel welcomed. They gave him a union of family, strength, a purpose, and sex. Although, it could be said that omegas joined packs for the simplicity of maintaining protection insurance, in the downtown, omegas had their own rank to reign. With omegas becoming a scarcity, in the downtown, they were labeled as golden beauties. Ambitious alphas that captured them kept them for the rest of the pack to indulge themselves in what nature called, mating. If only one was around, ultimately the leading alpha would ground the rules, but mostly all got involved with the omega. It wasn’t always a rape though, there were omegas whom would find such order a home, passion, and competition. In Taekwoon’s pack, the order changed drastically after Hongbin’s pregnancy. Hongbin gave birth not only to a cub, but resolved the unjustifiable obligation he had pressed on by the pack before. With the fact that he was able to be bred, the pack laid down the rules, and no one was allowed to mate with Hongbin anymore, unless permitted.

Taekwoon knew Hongbin was aware of the consequences. To be grinding with some werewolf from another pack in their own house in front of his alphas, he was pinning distance. Taekwoon had no right to reinforce the laws, to compose new laws, or even to make demands. In their pack the leading alpha was Wonshik, he made the demands. Taekwoon followed orders just like the rest, but an alpha remains an alpha.

Taekwoon fixed his temper, and with barren eyes that so easily came, he was ready to confront the situation, but another look and Hongbin was staring back at him, daring him. Hongbin moved away from the other alpha and walked straight to him, edging him on the shoulder with more force than expected. He led them out, but before joining him Taekwoon gave him a moan of pain. It wasn’t he was angry, but to his kind it’s still shocking when Hongbin hurts someone, like him, an alpha. Away from the noise and dancing and very likely animalistic sex, Hongbin gives him his back, although nearing the staircase as if going back up without a word. But then, “I don’t know what you’re expecting of me, but you have no right to look at me in that way, and judge me. You know.” He turns around, golden eyes bright and hair growing, but his facial muscles then relax. “Can you just quit the expectations, I’m no angel, I never was. I’m an animal, and one in the lowest pit of shit. I have no freedom out there, but here, here I do. Here I can choose, I can demand, and I can hurt. Just.” He hardens his jaw, keeping his posture and pulling the pain away. “I wanted to sleep with him.” He confesses. “But you look at me and I know, I know I brought this on myself, I know this is my fault, I have a cub upstairs while I’m downstairs planning on fucking another fucken alpha from another pack, to run away from my problems. I know you would keep him safe. And you know what.” He makes fists and his eyes go brighter than ever. They are no honey, but loud yellow luminous moons or maybe volcanoes with magma boiling so near its release. “That’s what makes me angry! He’s mine, only mine, even if I want to leave him, he remains here.” He swings a fist to his heart. “I brought him to this awful venomous world, and you have no part in it. Just keep to yourself. I want nothing from you.”

Neither move, there’s tension, but neither look away from each other’s eyes. There’s an understanding that is trying it’s best to spark a light, and both welcome it. They’ve known each other for only 7 years, Taekwoon hasn’t betrayed a soul in their pack and Hongbin must accept him as pack, but for years he’s done his best to keep no connection with him. “I’m not the enemy here Hongbin, you should know this by now.”

“I have my doubts, I’ll always have my doubts so keep the distance, from me and from my son. Because I am part of this pack and you are in this pack, I call you alpha, but you’re not my alpha, Wonshik is and always will be, you’re just there. Nothing more than a friend, and friends don’t bother with being more than a friend with a friend’s cubs, not here. You’re not and never will be my son’s real father.”

“I want nothing but to be a friend to you Hongbin, I apologize if I have gone out of my way to give you the wrong impression. Please forgive me.” He finally looks away, with plain sight guilt, and there’s a sharp understanding already, enough to fulfill the missing piece, the piece that ends the anger. Hongbin watches Taekwoon go upstairs before him.

In the morning of the next day, all is forgotten and unspoken of. Taekwoon could keep complaining to Wonshik about guiding correctly a cub, but ultimately none of it is his decision to make. He knows the werewolves are growing bored in this home, they love meeting new wolves and having fun. Fun can never be erased, and everyone misses the fun of the old times. It’s nearing 1pm and he needs to go pick up the cub of the pack from school, he offered himself when everything started, he would never mind. New life had always kindled his hope of family. It triggers ugly memories, but also coats the wounds.

There’s really no best school in the downtown, but because everyone in the pack is busy or allergic to training a cub, the cub must go to school. “How was school today Jihu?” Taekwoon is wearing a simple white shirt and black jeans, except all stained with dirt, and squatting to be at the height of the cub.

“I made a new friend.” Jihu replies as he rocks from one foot to another, “he’s really nice, says he likes me.” With rosy pink splattering in his cheeks, his eyes scrutinize the park, avoiding Taekwoon’s eyes.

Taekwoon smiles, but before Taekwoon gets to reply, an adult asks for his attention. “Excuse me,” Taekwoon stands up and turns around shaking a streak of hair out of his eyes before using his fingers to aid in the process. “I’m sorry but my son was just telling me your son got in a disagreement with other cubs, so my son got in a fight for him and he got hurt. I spoke to his teacher, but really, she doesn’t give a shit, so I’d like to have a talk with you before you leave. Listen, my son never starts something without it being defense, and I’ve taught him to defend himself, but look here let’s be reasonable. Your son looks weak and I’m sorry if this can sting, but honestly, I’d prefer my son to hang around werewolf cubs more skilled. I don’t want him getting involved again in your son’s affairs.”

Taekwoon continues observing until father of child who was hurt by some other kids gives him an eye roll. “I’m sorry, I’m not his father.” He wants to keep explaining, but Jihu pulls his hand away from Taekwoon’s, who was holding Jihu protectively, after the man faced him with insults to the cub. Taekwoon sighs, and he could get angry, but he could never settle a compromise with such given insults, so he does what he does best. He walks away calling the cub to follow him. When the cub doesn’t listen, he uses the under tone, the alpha voice. Jihu looks up at him, naturally, he can’t help himself, and then he cries. Shocked and embarrassed of his behavior, Taekwoon walks back to him to comfort him. All through the scene the other father of the bruised cub watches.

“Does he have a father?”

“He has a father.” Taekwoon answers irritated.

“Sorry I didn’t.” The other man sighs this time. “I’m a single father and sometimes I forget everyone has it hard here, not only me. My name is Hakyeon, and this is my son Channie, short for Chansung. I’m completely fine with them being friends, I’m sorry about that, I just… like any other father panicked at the thought of my cub being picked as a punching bag.”

“I’m Taekwoon alpha in the Kim Wonshik pack, and this is the cub of the pack.” He introduces himself feeling lighter as he understands best himself how it feels to see a cub get hurt.

“Oh, you don’t need to mention that, I mean I usually don’t because I don’t have a pack and it could be dangerous to say, but look at that too late now. Nice to meet you Taekwoon.” They shake hands and Taekwoon returns a small smile. They walk together to the parking lot slowly engaging in talk neither wish to end. Taekwoon mentions the cub’s father and then with expressive lips, Hakyeon admits to recognizing the name. Time is relentless, and soon each needs to take their way. Channie and Jihu ain’t crying anymore, and Taekwoon’s heart is a beat ahead. He feels swelled having interacted with another father, and immediately has the urge to share this information with Hongbin, but Hongbin is in best spirits inside home, so he waits. 

 

 

“You’re brooding”

“Am not”

“You stayed brooding last night in the driveway longer than it took me to give my son a bath and put him to bed, if you have something to say, out with it already.”

“I met someone today.” Taekwoon smiles as he peels the potatoes. They’re in the kitchen, and its Hongbin’s turn to cook for the day.

Hongbin quits all movement, the boiling water and the crab can wait, his eyebrows are as high as a hat could be, and late, but somehow manages a smile. “Well finally, you seem to have gotten tired of Naeun in bed, for a while I thought you had some disability.” He laughs.

Taekwoon accompanies, he has learned how Hongbin’s humor works. “He told me he knows you.” He beats the next insult.

Hongbin fakes boredom and rolls his eyes as his tongue portrays a puking pose. “I might, I might not know him, and I rather not if you’re bringing him to the pack to fuck.” He bites a peeled carrot.

“He’s a solo father like you. Says he knows you from work.” At that Hongbin’s eyes enlarge and he swallows his second bite of the carrot.

“I don’t like to mix work with pack, I’m certain Wonshik has explained to you no more whores are allowed in this pack.”

“You’re not a whore.” Taekwoon sighs, tired of this topic again. “Today you cut carrots, but tomorrow is another day where it won’t matter anymore, because you’ve had yesterday’s meal already. Tomorrow all that matters is tomorrow’s meal. I don’t understand why you must make the past so real and so daily, when it’s not. The past is in the past, and you don’t do that anymore.” He stopped peeling and the kitchen was as quiet as the crab boiling allowed it to be.

“Who is he?” He gives a quick glance at Taekwoon’s working boots. Right after work they had to go grocery shopping because Hongbin forgot to make the trip last week for his turn in cooking. There had been no time; upon arrival they went straight to the kitchen to begin the big meal of the day. “I’m glad you’ve met someone.” He pokes at his nails, inspecting the kitchen floor that has chunks of mud everywhere. Then he smiles. “Do I add him?”

Taekwoon tells him today is not reasonable, he hasn’t even asked. “I do plan on inviting him.” He states as he finishes peeling the last potato. “I’m going for a shower first, I feel gross.” Hongbin smiles again and nods as Taekwoon excuses himself.

The next day is a Saturday, so Taekwoon doesn’t really get to meet Hakyeon and invite him for dinner. It’s a good thing though, because first he must get authorization from Wonshik, nothing should be news to him, everything about the pack concerns the alpha leader and must go by him first. Forgetting to knock as he repeats in his head what he wants to say, he opens the door. There’s the smell of cigarettes and Hongbin’s roots everywhere.

“I was just leaving.” Hongbin pulls up his pants and stubs the cigarette butt on Wonshik’s bed, burning a hole in the sheets.

“He always tries to leave like a mouse.” A deeper voice surges in the room after Hongbin’s rush.

“You said.”

“I know, I know everything, and because I know everything I’d like to apologize. You see Naeun was busy with Ken so I took advantage of my power. Needless to say, I was not expecting a visit from you this early on.” Wonshik puffs another smoke of his own cigarette and crosses his legs. “Excuse my rudeness, but I’m naked and I rather not have an audience.”

“I suppose Hongbin doesn’t count as a figure in that audience of yours.” There’s a spiteful sour sound to his voice, and could be he’s growling, but that doesn’t matter.

“No Taekwoon, Hongbin doesn’t count.” He stands up bared and laughs. “Hongbin is my omega, I do as I please, at least until you claim him. Until then my boy, you have no say. Now leave.”

His every nerve is pulsating, but he can’t afford a challenge, he can’t lose what he has gained. That trust everyone gives him, that family he has earned. The loss of respect would make him lose everything that has picked him up from the misery that he was in. He walks away but with his fight or flight response flickered, his wolf runs.

He doesn’t see Hongbin again until he’s showered and goes down stairs out of boredom. Hongbin's in the sofa watching TV something they rarely do. TV was a human invention and a human diversion, a human entertainment long lost in the busy downtown. No longer was having a tv a possession of enforcing prosperity, not when houses like The House of O existed.

He nears the sofa, wants to sit down but listens to the accelerating heartbeat. “It’s fine, you have no need to worry, what you and Wonshik do is none of my business.” He sits and watches whatever Hongbin is not truly watching anymore.

“Last time you said that I was pregnant, I carried another heartbeat inside me.” He turns the TV off, but can’t continue with the conversation. 

“Yeah,” is all Taekwoon can respond with, he too seems to be out of words, or better yet, has no desire to hit the topic of discussion. What that morning presented to him, reminded him he was not there for Hongbin, he was there for himself. 

“I can’t help what I am Taek, I know you live in some fantasy, but this is not a place for even such imaginations.”

“What are you talking about?” Taekwoon raises his voice unconsciously. 

“I’m saying quit day dreaming and enter the real world. I don’t know where you really come from, but you weren’t born here. Your manners, your fighting techniques, your everything is obvious. You come from some other land, and maybe you lost yourself, but get the rules in your head, because here everything is dead. Wonshik can go and screw my son, and the next day will still come, the sun will rise, and no one will touch Wonshik.”

“Wonshik would never do that.”

“I know, I know him well, better than anyone, and I owe him so much. You don’t know anything.” Hongbin cleans his tears and walks away, again with those rushed steps he always seems to take. 

They don’t cross paths on Sunday, but Wonshik confides in him, even after last night’s incident. He calls him for a meeting, not so secretly, because that has Jaehwan giving him a headache and pinching his resistance to punch him for the day. Then Monday arrives, and he’s on autopilot. His emotions have rushed out of him, and all he wants to do is hold Jihu, but Hongbin added restrictions yesterday. Wonshik gave him the talk, and with no challenge again, he kept quiet and went on with his day. Like Hongbin said, even then, the sun will still rise the next day. Your suffering makes no change to the days.

**Author's Note:**

> Like let me know if something doesn't make sense, because I rushed a lot of it. I just want to finish this story already. I really like this plot so I hope you do too. I'm open to any Comments. Also I apologize for the past tense and present tense change that keeps happening.


End file.
